


Barely Breathing

by Avenged_Amaranth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bit of Smut at the End, First Kiss, Future Fic, Love Confessions, M/M, Post Season 11, Post lucifer, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, pinning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 07:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7039258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avenged_Amaranth/pseuds/Avenged_Amaranth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is free of Lucifer. Life in the bunker is quiet. Dean and Cas gravitate to one another, like always.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barely Breathing

At first Cas doesn’t want to stay at the bunker. He stiffens whenever Dean or Sam poke they’re head through the door of the bedroom they’d made for him, his eyes always weary and haunted. For a while it’s hard for Dean to even look at him, unnerved by how painful his own chest aches over the loss of the once vivid blue gaze that’s now dull in comparison. It’s three weeks of silence and frustration, the bunker quickly becoming Dean’s own personal Hell and one that he fells guilty for wanting to escape. It’s Sam who makes things better; Sam with his ‘I am so through with this bullshit’ glare that Dean’s been getting more often than not lately.

 

It’s almost a month after they expel Lucifer from Castiel’s body that the two of them finally talk; really talk. Sam kind of gives them no other choice, calling them both out on their bullshit and slamming the bunker door behind him, running off with the Impala. Dean finds he can't even be that pissed off. He knows things are ridiculous between the two of them.

 

So they talk.

 

Dean manages to get Cas to actually sit beside him on the couch. He _actually_ looks the ex-angel straight in the eyes for a whole fifteen minutes as he spits out things that he would usually kill anyone for overhearing; things that are hard to acknowledge, let alone say. Not because he’s scared of how Cas will react, but more so because after Dean’s little ‘conversation’ with Lucifer, he’s realized that he should have said everything way before now and he’s ashamed. So damned ashamed. 

 

In the end he’s glad that Sam leaves. The last thing he needs his brother seeing is the inevitable breakdown that’s been long coming. He tries to hide himself from Cas when the tears start, twisting in his seat to leap up and make a hasty retreat, but Cas grabs a fist full of his shirt and drags him down until his ass plops hard back onto the couch. They just sit there a moment, both tense and waiting. Cas’ hand begins to shake at his back, and _Christ, Dean can’t deny him this_. Not the truth. Not when it may be the only thing tethering him to this world.

 

The thing is Dean desperately needs him back. He need him grumpy and confused and all squinty eyed like the old days.

 

In the end it’s easier than he had expected. All he has to do is turn around and reach out.

 

Cas lets out a wet sob as Dean draws him into his chest, and his arms eagerly lift to wrap tight around Dean’s waist. It’s not the first time that they’ve hugged after Lucifer, but somehow it feels more significant.

 

“Need you.” Dean whispers against hair that smells beautifully like his own shampoo. “I’m so freaking sorry I wasn’t there. I’ll always be there.” The sensation of Cas burying his face into the hollow of Dean’s neck is Heaven, and he never wants to let go. He could spend the rest of his life on that ratty old couch if life would let him.

 

Cas draws back first. He moves slow, so incredibly slow, the scrape of his beard rubbing against Dean’s cheek and leaving a wet smear from his eyes. Dean knows that his own face is just as wet, and the knowledge makes him feel more tied to the man in his arms. One more thing they shared.

 

Like a magnet they both draw closer until their foreheads rest together. Dean lets out a ragged sigh and shuts his eyes, his palm curling around the nape of Cas’ neck. Cas’ answering touch is delicate… timid. It’s like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed and Dean hates that; quickly leans his cheek into the warm skin of Cas’ palm to let him know that it’s okay. That he wants it. Has always wanted it. Cas lets out a soft breath of surprise at the permission, and Dean feels it fall soft on his lips.

 

The sensation of Cas rubbing his thumb back and forth along Dean’s cheekbone is somehow beautiful and painful all at once, and emotion’s building heavy inside of him again. For once Dean doesn’t try to hold it at bay.

 

Cas stiffens at the words as they leave Dean’s lips, and Dean can’t help but fold in a little on himself, fear suddenly surging like fire through his veins. He knows the importance of the words, knows what they mean. He also knows that he’s never once said them to Cas.

 

Dozens of scenarios play across his mind, most ending horrifically, but the last thing he expects is for Cas to suddenly sag against him, his face pressed against the dip of Dean’s shoulder blade. And then he’s crying again, only this time with soft, gasping breaths. His hands clench at Dean’s body like he’s terrified Dean will vanish. It takes Dean a few seconds to realize that Cas is talking between his sobs, gasping out that he’s sorry and begging for forgiveness.

 

Dean holds him until they both fall asleep. In the morning he wakes up with a stiff neck and sore body, but it's okay because Cas is on the couch beside him, his head laid against the back, and he’s actually looking at Dean again with that familiar, soul searching gaze. And maybe something a bit more.

 

Sam stomps into the room and Dean doesn’t realize how close their faces have drifted until he's jerking away and jumping to his feet.

 

He’s a nervous mess all that day.

 

 *********

 

After that the days passed quickly.

 

With the Darkness defeated things have grown pretty quiet. There’s still the occasional salt and burn, but other than that the three of them find themselves living a somewhat… normal, life. As normal as their lives can get, anyways. With Cas being human again, Sam’s takes it upon himself to make sure almost all of the meals at the bunker are annoyingly healthy; saying something about wanting to make sure Cas is put on the ‘right track’. Dean calls bullshit. He knows Sam just wants someone else to eat his rabbit food with him. Cas for the most part doesn’t seem to mind, although if he’s particularly excited whenever Dean makes his famous bacon cheeseburgers, Dean tries not to let it go to his head.

 

 

He figures that it’s his duty to expand Cas’ wardrobe, and they often found themselves roaming the aisles of Walmart in search of what Cas’ actual ‘style’ is. In the end it turns out being pretty similar to Deans; blue jeans, some boots, and tee shirts. Cas always tries to act like picking out clothes for himself isn’t that big of a deal, but Dean watches the way his eyes light up whenever he see’s something he likes, or how his lip curl’s slightly when he thinks no one’s looking as he pulls something down from a rack.

 

 Despite owning his own clothes, though, Cas sometimes flounces into the kitchen at breakfast, wearing an old tee of Dean’s. The smirk on his face as Dean chokes on whatever he’s eating or drinking is both frustrating and amazing.

 

It isn’t until Cas get’s his leather jacket, though, that the real problems start.

 

*********

 

They’re gearing up for a hunt, and Dean’s leaned over the trunk of Baby, making room for all their suitcases. He hears boots approaching and figures since it doesn’t sound like a giant walking it must be Cas. Glancing over his shoulder he looks to see what else he’ll need to fit into the trunk, and jerks up so quickly and without thinking that his head slams against the hood of the Impala.

 

Suddenly the soft warmth of Cas’ fingers are pressed against his cheek, and Dean sucks in a sharp breath, his body going completely still and his eyes wide. Cas is close, so close that Dean can feel the heat seeping feom him. His head’s slightly tilted and his eyes are squinted deeply, a look of pure confusion on his face.

 

“Cas?” Cas’ eyes flicker up to his, and Dean suddenly has trouble swallowing.

 

“I sometimes forget that I can’t heal you anymore.” Cas says, his eyes searching Dean’s face. “Are we ready?”

 

Dean blinks, confusion clouding his thoughts. “Huh?” Cas is still touching his face, and he’s never had such a hard time concentrating.

 

“For the hunt.” Cas finally draws his hand away, though seemingly reluctantly. He nods at the Impala. “Are we all packed?”

 

Brain waves spark to life and Dean remembers that he’s actually an intelligent human being. “Oh! Yeah. All ready, man.”

 

Cas nods again, his eyes cutting back to Dean and holding. Dean swallows to fill the silence.

 

“Good. In case you’re wondering, I’m ready as well.” Cas tilts his head slightly, his eyes narrowing in intensity. “What about you, Dean? Are you ready?”

 

Dean has trouble breathing. Suddenly he can’t help but feel like this conversation has taken on a whole different meaning and just the mere idea of it makes his heart pound and his face grow hot. He licks his lips, makes a cut off noise when Cas’ eyes flicker down to watch the motion. When Cas looks up again his gaze has darkened, and Dean feels incredibly small under the weight of it so he looks away.

 

Turns out that’s a mistake, though, because now he can’t stop staring at the slightly worn leather jacket clinging to Cas like a second skin. The sleeves are pushed up slightly, and Dean zeroes in on the sight of soft, dark hair curling on Cas’ forearms. The sight holds an appeal that he’s never found himself enjoying before, and not wanting to look like a weirdo he jerks his gaze away. “I… uh…”

 

“Dean?” Cas takes a step closer, crowding him.

 

Dean feels the back of his thighs hit the bumper of the Impala and realizes that he’s all but caged in. For some reason instead of fear something hot and overwhelming crashes into him. “I think I’m ready.” He chokes the words out, the flush on his face growing in intensity.

 

Cas’s eyes roam over his face, almost as if he’s looking for any sign of dishonesty. He moves closer. Dean can feel the heat of his body press against his own. “You think? I’m not sure if that is acceptable. In our line of work you know what being unprepared can mean. I’d advise you be sure before moving forward. I… I need you to be sure, Dean.” Cas’ last words are softly spoken, his gaze openly seeking.

 

For once in his life, Dean allows himself to take a moment and think about the future in a way that is more than pain and sorrow. He considers what it would be like to be happy; to actually _allow_ himself to be happy. What it would be like to reach out and take something that he wants for himself, and to not hold back because _it’s just better this way_. When he speaks again his voice is a surer. “Yeah. I’m sure, Cas.”

 

Sam parades in seconds later, just when Dean is tilting his head forward. He side eyes Dean the entire car ride, and Dean tries to keep his twitching to a minimum, though it only increases every time he glances in the rearview mirror and catches Cas’ eyes.

 

The hunt goes well. They come out with a few bruises and cuts, but alive.

 

Another two weeks fly by in the blink of an eye.

 

*****************

 

Cas likes to watch movies, Dean realizes. When there’s nothing to do, no monster to go after and no impending doom looming over their heads, Cas can always be found sitting in their ‘living room’. He doesn’t seem to know quite how to relax yet, though, and Dean always walks in to find him stiff on the couch, back ramrod straight, or bent forward with his elbows on his knees as he stares down at Sam’s laptop and whatever movie or TV show happens to be playing.

 

Dean naturally decides that it’s up to him to teach Cas how to let go, so they start watching movies together. Dean teaches Cas how to make popcorn (heavy butter, heavy salt) and makes sure that Cas always has a fresh beer when he’s reached the last dregs of the one’s he’d been drinking. It’s always the same when they start out, each sitting on their respective side of the couch, but somehow by the middle of the movie Dean always finds them pushed closely up against one another, the heat of Cas spreading deliciously into his side.

 

Sam never seems to want to join them, though Dean has a pretty good reason why. He tries not to think about that, though.

 

A certain kind of tension starts to bloom between them, and it’s that much more stifling when they are in the same room. Dean finds himself experiencing a startling sense of self-conscious that he’s never had to deal with before. He’d be lying if he says he doesn’t try to run from it a time or two, but he never gets that far, Cas cornering him (both figuratively _and_ literally at times) until Dean caves under his gaze. And then they’ll start all over again.

 

It’s a game of cat and mouse that Dean’s never been at the receiving end of, and he isn’t totally sure what to make of it.

 

One night, after a particularly difficult day, Dean tires of staring up at the ceiling and waiting for sleep to come. He’s not sure what makes him open his bedroom door, but he does, and he’s twenty minutes into a movie when a tingling runs down his spine. It’s a sensation that he’s grown familiar with over the years, and sure enough Cas is standing in the open doorway.

 

He’s in a pair of dark blue flannel pajama pants and an old Led Zeppelin shirt that Dean hadn’t noticed was apparently missing. He wants to be irritated, but can’t really find the energy to even glare. He’s tired, e _xhausted_ even, and he doesn’t know why he’s only just realized it. “Hey, Cas. Can’t sleep?”

 

Cas doesn’t move from his spot, his eyes flickering over Dean’s room before landing on him, and when they do there’s so much weight in their depth that Dean physically feels himself pushed further into the pillows at his back.

 

“It would seem I’m not the only one.”

 

Dean tries for a smug grin, but it feels twisted on his lips somehow. Shaky. He licks his lips and clears his throat, eyes locked on the laptop screen resting on his thighs. “You ever seen the Sandlot?”

 

“I’ve never actually watched the movie, but I have full knowledge of its plot. Metatron.” Cas adds at the end as ways of explaining.

 

  
“Ah. I forgot he whammied your brain with the America’s Top Forties.” Dean shifts slightly on the bed, rubbing his palms on the comforter under him. “Uh, I mean if you don’t mind re-watching – well not r _e-watching_ , cause you haven’t actually watched it and all, but if you want to… you know.” Jesus Christ has he always been this horrible?

 

An eager look comes over Cas, and he makes to step forward before stopping short. Dean can’t help but look up at him now, and his chest starts to pound when he finds Cas watching him with brooding intensity.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

Dean swallows thickly and nods his head, scooting over on the bed to open up the space at his left. “Yeah. Come on.”

 

Cas hesitates before moving in slowly, his eyes on Dean the entire time. They flick down briefly to the laptop in Dean’s lap, or that general area, and Dean resists the urge to squirm because he’s overly aware of the fact that he’s only wearing a tee shirt and his boxer briefs. It’s not like they’d never seen each other in similar dress before, after all staying in hotel rooms during hunts means little to no privacy. But this is different. He _knows_ it’s different and that’s what makes his skin crawl with nervousness and his stomach knot.

 

Cas slides onto the open spot on the bed, and he doesn’t even bother trying to keep a polite, _proper_ distance; instead presses up all warm and comfortable against Dean.

 

Dean doesn’t really expect it, and the contact causes a soft intake of breath to fil the silence. Cas stills instantly, going rigid.

 

Dean see’s Cas watching him out of the peripherals of his vision, and he tries to act normal, forcing his body to relax and his breathing to even out. Once he’s a bit more in control, he feels the tension leave Cas’ body as well.

 

And so they watch the movie.

 

It’s… comfortable. So comfortable that he barely notices when his body naturally slumps against Cas’ side, his head moving closer and closer to Cas’ shoulder.

 

Soon the movie gets to his favorite part, and Dean elbows Cas and nods to the screen, a tiny grin on his lips. “Smoothest scheme in any movie, right here.”

 

Cas blinks at Dean before looking back at the screen and watching as Squints pretends to be drowning just so he can steal a kiss from Wendy Peffercorn. The moment they lock lips and the scrawny boy clings onto the poor teenage lifeguard’s limbs, Dean erupts into laughter, his head tipping back and his entire body shaking. Cas can’t help but smile at the reaction.

 

“You seem to enjoy this part.”

 

Dean sobers gently, still chuckling as he glances over at Cas, their faces closer than he had expected. “Well, yeah, the kid’s got some balls after all.”

 

Cas eyes him a moment before turning back to the movie, his head now cocked. “Squints like’s this Wendy Peffercorn.”

 

Dean snorts. “Oh yeah, you could say that.”

 

Cas nods, drifting into silence again. A full five minutes pass and then he clears his throat. “If Squints likes Wendy, why doesn’t he just tell her instead of tricking her into kissing him?”

 

Dean glances briefly at Cas with an arched brow. “I don’t know. I guess he’s scared that she won’t like him back.” He allows a beat of silence to follow before drawing a little straighter against the pillows. “I mean, it’s not like Squints has got a lot going for him. He’s about as thick as a bean pole, has big teeth, and wears the dorkiest glasses ever. Wendy Peffercorn wouldn’t have given him the time of day.”

 

Cas breaths silently beside Dean, and though he’s quiet, his presence has somehow become much larger, and Dean’s reminded again of how nerve wrecking these past few weeks have been.

 

“So he’s scared.”

 

The words instantly rub him the wrong way. He bristles, sitting up even straighter, and beside him Cas does the same, until he is mimicking Dean’s posture. “He’s not s _cared_ , he’s just…” Dean’s full of shit and he knows it, and it’s even more obvious because for the life of him he just can’t finish his sentence.

 

“There’s nothing wrong with being afraid, Dean –“

 

“ _I’m not afraid_!” He hisses and immediately realizes his mistake, quickly trying to backtrack. “I mean – _he’s_ not afraid. Squints. He’s just…”

 

Cas watches him closely, his eyes unblinking, and Dean stares resolutely down at the laptop so he doesn’t have to meet his gaze.

 

“He’s what?” Cas speaks softly. Carefully.

 

Oh, fuck it all. Dean’s shoulders slump in defeat and he sighs. “I don’t know, Cas. Maybe he is afraid. I mean… maybe he’s worried what getting too close to someone could mean. That’s why he tricked Wendy the way he did. He was too afraid to come right out and tell her that he likes her. That he’s liked her for a long time… maybe since the moment he first saw her.” Dean’s hands shake when he lift’s them to run through his hair. “Or maybe he was just a bit fascinated by her, you know? She’s _Wendy Peffercorn_ , after all.” He snorts, because, _duh_.

 

Cas takes this all in quietly, his expression never changing. “I’m not sure I understand. If… if Squints likes Wendy Peffercorn so much, why would he be scared?” He hesitates, a flicker of new emotion finally catching his features. “Or… is it that he’s afraid of being intimate with her? Of being that close?”

 

Dean sputters, because _holy shit had Cas just said what he thinks he had_? “No! It’s not that. He’s definitely not scared of that. Maybe a bit nervous, but not enough that he’d refuse any move put on him, that’s for sure.”

 

A small smile graces Cas’ lips, and Dean feels his face flame. He shifts slightly against the covers, feeling suddenly way too hot.

 

“Put on him? Is he afraid of making the first move, then?”

 

Jesus Christ why is it so hot? The laptop is fire on his thighs and Dean wants to push it aside, but the thing has somehow become something like a security blanket – or pillow, to him and he can’t seem to let go of it. “Nah, Cas, it’s nothing like that. It’s just…” He draws in a soft, shaky breath, glancing hesitantly over at Cas and finding the fallen angel watching him with wide, open eyes, not a single ounce of judgment. The deep blue’s draw him in like they always have, and Dean can’t help but feel that looking into Cas’ eyes is something like finally coming home. Hell. It’s now or never. “What if things change, Cas?”

 

Understanding comes over Cas. His eyes soften and his lips draw up gently. “Things have already changed, Dean.”

 

“I know that, believe me, I do. It’s just that – _Jesus, Cas_. You’ve seen our lives. You know what it means to be important to a Winchester.” Dean swings around to face him, his eyes wide. “Not that you haven’t always been important, because you have! It’s just you’re _more_ important now, you know? Shit, that sounds bad, too. All I mean is-“

 

Cas is laughing softly as his hands come up and cup each side of Dean’s jaw, his thumbs rubbing the stubbled skin of Dean’s cheeks. Dean quiet’s instantly, his breath catching in his throat and his eyes widening. “I’m not going anywhere, Dean.”

 

Dean swallows and licks his lips, and swallows again when he watches Cas’ eyes lower to track the movement. “But, what if-“

 

Cas leans forward and then lips softer than they look are pressing gently against his own. The kiss lingers, just a faint grazing of skin, and Dean’s eyes flutter shut.

 

Far too quickly the touch fades, Cas pulling away, and Dean’s heart aches from the loss. He barely resist’s a whimper.

 

Cas’ hot breath falls on his mouth. He’s close, still. Dean takes a deep breath before opening his eyes.

 

Cas’ gaze is excruciatingly tender, all but bleeding affection, and it cuts Dean deep. It makes something shift and swell in his chest and climb to his throat, which suddenly feels thick and choked. Squeezing his eyes shut he grabs at the material of Cas’ shirt – _his_ shirt. “You can’t leave me again.” His voice is hoarse, painful with emotion. “ _Please don’t leave me again._ ”

 

And then they’re kissing again. It’s not gentle anymore, but somehow just as sweet. Hands cling and grip, tugging and pulling until they’re chest to chest. The laptop slides from Dean’s lap and clatters to the floor. He barely notices it.

 

Cas’ weight is a warmth that he readily welcomes, lowering himself against the bed and moaning at how _perfect_ Cas feels on top of him; how right.

 

Cas kisses with an intensity that matches his entire being, and Dean feels like his body is caught in an electric current, every inch of his skin buzzing with energy. It seems natural to spread his legs and open himself for Cas, and the moment he does they both pause to groan before hips start to grins and breath grows short.

 

Cas trails a line of kisses from his lips to his jaw, and lower still to his neck, where he finds a spot that makes Dean see stars, his eyes rolling back in his head. It takes him a moment to come down from the clouds long enough to realize that Cas is whispering fervently against his skin, hot breath searing words into his very being. Something inside of him shatters when he makes the words out.

 

“I’ll never leave you.” A kiss to his neck. “I love you. I love you.” The tip of a nose grazes Dean’s collarbone before a kiss is softly placed in the hollow there.

 

A choked sob bubbles up from Dean’s throat, and Cas clings all the tighter, his hips pressing down hard against Dean and making him cry out in earnest. He claws at Cas’ back, digging his hands into his shirt and stretching the material.

 

The weight of Cas on top of him pushes him into the mattress, and his lungs burn slightly from exertion. Somehow, despite that, he can’t help but feel he’s never breathed easier in his entire life.


End file.
